


Thomas' Dream

by meefling



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meefling/pseuds/meefling
Summary: There was something incorporeal linking an overworked professor, an exhausted thespian, a divorced father, and an adopted teen together. It was a force none of them understood, especially seeing as none of them had ever even met before that day."You are all familiar with the face of Thomas Sanders."





	Thomas' Dream

**Author's Note:**

> i want to kick off this fic by thanking @thegoldensnitch1228 on tumblr for posting their idea and influencing me to write a short story based on the idea, and i hope to do the idea justice!
> 
> here is a link to the first fic i wrote, which has a link to the original idea post as well: http://meefling.tumblr.com/post/160929600386

“… Hmm. I suppose that concludes our class today.” Logan said tiredly as his lecture was cut short by the school bell. Not that high schoolers cared, their bags were already packed by the time the bell sounded, and were out the door within a minute.

The rest of his day followed as normal. Logan remained at school to finish grading essays until around 4:00, after which he headed home. He prepared his regular dinner, and continued to relax for the evening with an astrology book he’d borrowed from the library days ago. He was in bed at precisely 10:30pm, and his breathing exercises put him to sleep in minutes...

A man sat several feet away from him in a chair. His legs were spread so he could comfortably rest his elbows on his knees, and his head down in his hands.

Logan frowned and walked towards him at a regular pace, although in dreamspace it took him much longer to reach his target. Logan felt like it took four steps to travel the distance of one. He didn't allow his frustration dominate him. That man… He needed to help that man.

Once he was finally standing in front of him, Logan tried to say something to catch his attention.

The man didn’t hear his voice. To his slight alarm, Logan didn't hear it either. He tried several more times to speak, but all attempts came up fruitless. He gave up speaking after several minutes, or maybe hours, and tried to place a hand on the man’s shoulder.

He jerked and looked up at Logan, his face confused. His soft features then relaxed, although he was clearly stressed. Why was he stressed? Logan felt the need to pick apart this man’s brain...

“Logic...”

Logan was back in his room just then, sitting up with a loud gasp which, consequently, sent him into an unrefined coughing fit. Once he recovered he held his head in his hands, almost mirroring the defeated position of the man in his dream.

Logan shook his head and gently slapped his face. He could think of the stranger in his dream later, it was probably nonsense anyhow. He still made a mental note to check out a book on dreams and the subconscious mind on his next library visit.

The teacher checked the time. He had an hour he could sleep, or he could get up and take a long cold shower.

After just a moment’s deliberation, he decided on the latter.

OoOoO

“Thanks again for helping to organize this,” the event coordinator said graciously. Roman shook his head at the praise and beamed.

“No worries at all, my friend,” he replied. “This idea of decorating flying drones as dragons to be hunted was brilliant, however accidental its creation was.” The coordinator laughed.

“Yes, that incident at the Russian medieval festival really started something great,” he said heartily, and Roman nodded.

“Well now that everything is packed away, perhaps it’s time to take my leave.” He said.

“Of course, thanks for your help with all of this, Roman.” He reached out to shake Roman’s hand.

“It was a pleasure.” Roman assured, accepting the hand shake.

Once Roman returned home for the night, he felt exhausted. Being a medieval reenactor wasn’t easy, as fun as it may be. In his youth he could have guessed that being in character all day would be a dreamy and energizing experience. His younger self wasn't quite wrong, but Roman could never have anticipated being so drained at the end of each day.

He chose tonight to unwind with a bath, using one of his rose-scented fizzing bath bombs, and watched a classic Disney movie to further relax before he hopped into bed. He fell asleep with his phone in his hand, in the middle of scrolling through Facebook for photos of his event.

A beautiful singing voice welcomed him in his dreams. The sweet voice was deep and rich, but somehow also airy and delicate. The high notes were high, the low notes were low…

Roman found himself compelled to find the source of such a beautiful, apparently aimless melody.

The reenactor found that his surroundings were not unlike that of some RPG game, and ever the one to take up a character, Prince Roman searched high and low, stepping into empty houses, lifting pots and openin gtreasure chests, walking across grassy fields, even climbing halfway up a mountain to follow the voice. He had to have been on this journey for days, weeks even.

Finally he came across a small, simple home atop a cliff, and he felt it within him that this was the place, the man with the beautiful voice was inside.

Roman marched up to the house and opened the front door, stepping quickly inside to see a man standing alone in the structure. The man turned from facing the left wall to look at the Prince, voice cutting out as he stared at Roman with wide surprised eyes. Then he smiled wide and walked forward, arms open for a hug.

“Creativity!”

Roman woke to his alarm, jerking slightly and opening his eyes. He groaned and blinked a few times, and rubbed his eyes of sleep gunk.

He had work today.

OoOoO

“Alright now, kiddos, it’s time for bed.” Patton said cheerfully, betraying his exhaustion.

“Dad, it’s only 8.” His son said, trying to make it sound like that wasn’t his bedtime. He yawned shortly after though and betrayed his own exhaustion. His daughter yawned too, which thus prompted himself to yawn.

“And that is your bed time, young man.” Patton smiled wearily, and his daughter seemed to pick up on how tired her father was. She slowly got up and closed her 3DS, plugging it in to charge overnight in the living room and going over to her brother, steps heavy as sleep called out to her.

“Steven, let’s go.” She prompted, playfully tugging his sleeve. He did not budge however. “Steven. We have school, it's a school night.”

Steven did not move still. “Connieeee,” he complained, even as he closed his sketchbook. He slumped in his seat. Connie wrinkled her nose.

“Steveeen,” she retorted and grabbed his whole arm, tugging him up off the couch and sluggishly taking him up the stairs. Patton chuckled at his childrens’ antics, proud of their maturity, and followed them up, requesting that they brush their teeth and get into their pajamas.

“I can't wait to be a teenager.” Steven said as he got his toothbrush out, squeezing some toothpaste out onto its’ bristles.

“Because you can stay up later?” Connie asked, rolling her eyes a little bit. Steven looked sheepish, eyes focusing on running the toothbrush under the tap briefly.

“No.” He protested. Connie followed his lead, picking her brush up and squeezing out some toothpaste.

“Then why?” She asked. Steven just shoved his brush in his mouth and scrubbed his teeth clean. Connie snorted. “You just don't want to admit I'm right!” Steven groaned, and Connie laughed drowsily as she too brushed her teeth, giving her brother a gentle shove.

Patton only grinned at their banter, allowing them to fantasize their big grown up lives. He only hoped they'd still enjoy their youth around all those big dreams.

Once the children were tucked in, kissed goodnight, and he had gotten himself sorted out for bed, he watched a little TV and did some work on the computer. He got a good bit done before midnight, after which he fell asleep, propped up by two pillows against his headboard, TV on and laptop hot in his lap.

He found himself in his car, on his way to pick up his kids from their mother. She had had them for the week, and today was Sunday, so as agreed, the children would come stay with him for the following week.

He almost anxiously tapped his fingers on the wheel as he was stopped at a red light, feeling like something was off. He checked the time, even pulled his phone out to check the date. Everything seemed good to him. Some deep part of him tried to comfort him by reminding him he was asleep, and his subconscious self accepted this and moved on once the light turned green.

He arrived shortly at his childrens’ mother’s house, and took a moment in his car to breathe before he adjusted his glasses and put on his best Dad Smile. He hopped out of the car and up the porch steps, then knocked on the door, awaiting the deep barks of Bonnie and Abby.

The father’s stomach twisted when no such barking was heard and he wondered for just a second if the family was on a walk. He almost turned around to go back to his car, when the door swung open and a man in his twenties was looking back at him. Patton blinked several times in astoundment, before the man in front of him lit up with childlike excitement.

“Morality!”

Patton’s sleep was cut off when four loud knocks on his door woke him, and he made an undignified noise as he was pulled from his dream.

“Dad, it’s 7:30 in the morning! We want breakfast!” He heard Steven call through the door like he was an adult. Connie followed the statement with a childlike “yeah!”, and another four knocks at his door.

“Alright, alright, daddy’s awake,” he called back to them, throwing a little laugh at the end. He stretched and his stiff back popped. “Go downstairs to the table and I'll be down in a minute!”

Connie and Steven’s feet both sounded their exit. He could hear their careless footsteps all the way down the stairs of their house.

Patton sighed, grabbed the remote to turn off the TV, closed the lid of his laptop, and got out of bed to begin his day.

OoOoO

Virgil remained in his classroom for several minutes after the others in his class had left, still putting away his notebooks and other things he’d used to distract himself from school. He’d learned early in the school year that rushing didn't get him anywhere any faster, in fact it only lead to mistakes. Virgil found it more worth it to awkwardly take his time than to speed through his end of day process.

He made sure to put his headphones on and turn to a good song before he actually left the classroom, allowing his music to remove him from reality as he left the school building. As usual, his walk home lead him past a pizzeria in the plaza by the school. His stomach growled but he just pretended not to notice, keeping his eyes on his feet. He has the self control not to go in, not because he was broke or not hungry, but exclusively because he had had enough social interaction today, he just wanted to go home.

Virgil did get home in good time, and he turned his music up louder as his mom and mother tried to greet him. He muttered a “hey”, and the women quickly got the idea that their son was not having a social day today. Virgil silently thanked them as they allowed him to go right to his room and shut the door.

With a long breath, he collapsed into his computer chair and waited for the song to finish before unplugging the headphones and replugging them into his computer.  
He swiftly got to work on one of the many projects he’d started this year, with a passion to finally get this work finished today. A few hours later, he drifted into a restless sleep, leant back in his chair.

There was a man standing behind him. Virgil didn't know how he knew; he couldn't hear breathing, couldn't feel anything, and hadn't turned to check if someone was really there. But somehow, he just knew, a man was standing right there behind him. Virgil just stared ahead at a half-circle-shaped light far ahead of him, not unlike an end of a tunnel would look like.

Neither person moved for several moments, before the man behind Virgil made a sudden jerk forward.

He broke into a run then, heart going from regular heartbeats to alarmed pounding in his chest, feeling breathless immediately but still sprinting regardless. The man chasing him began to shout, but Virgil’s breath and heartbeat in his own eardrums was too loud for him to make out what the other was saying. That light at the end of the tunnel was approaching fast, he was going to make it out of here.

At least, he’d thought he was going to make it out. It wasn't long after he thought he’d secured freedom, several feet from the tunnel, before Virgil was caught. A hand gripped his shoulder hard and he was spun around.

The man now in front of him looked possibly more terrified than he felt, it jarred him so badly he almost didn't hear what the man had been shouting at him.

“Anxiety!”

Virgil shot up in shock, propelling him backwards far enough that he fell right out of his chair and onto the floor. Pain shot up his back not only from the break in stiffness, but also due to whatever he’s landed on. He grit his teeth and regretted minutely that his floor wasn’t clean, as he got up to inspect whatever he’d fallen on for damage.

The soft knock at his door shouldn't have made him yelp but it did, and he needed a second to breathe before he responded. “Yeah?”

“Your mom ordered a pizza for dinner.” His mother said through the door, and Virgil blinked in surprise. Usually mom was up for cooking a meal. He worried maybe she wasn't feeling well, perhaps a patient of hers brought her down. Maybe it was something he did.

“Down in a minute.” Virgil replied, as he peeled himself up from the ground. Nothing he landed on appeared damaged, and he did a small spin around his room as if checking that he was alone in the space, before he went to his door and left the safety of his bedroom.

He ducked his head to avoid his mother’s smile as she and him traveled down to the dining room to meet his mom and a box of pizza.

OoOoO

There was something incorporeal linking an overworked professor, an exhausted thespian, a divorced father, and an adopted teen together. It was a force none of them understood, especially seeing as none of them had ever even met before that day.

The room they met in was mostly empty, consisting of few decorations and four chairs set up in front of a desk with only a few papers and pens adorning it. Atop the desk was also a flower in a vase, and a framed photograph that was visible just to whoever sat at the desk. There was a square piece of Bristol board leaned up against the wall beside the desk.

Logan was the first into the room, and he really wasn't sure what to make of this. His first thought had been that this was perhaps an anonymous interview. But as soon as Roman entered, he wondered if this was some kind of joint interview situation.

As this second man sat down, Logan immediately observed that he was dressed far too gayly to be here for the same reason as himself.

“Hello.” Roman greeted, looking Logan up and down. There was not a chance they were here for the same purpose.

“Greetings.” Logan said, calmly, as he rode his gaze from Roman’s fancy shoes to his face. “I believe you may have the wrong room.”

Roman looked confused. “Really?” He pulled out his phone and swiped to his emails, checking his most recent one. “Room 6.18?”

“Oh, huh.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “No, that is this room. How peculiar.”

“Excuse me?” Roman inquired, tilting his head as he pocketed the device.

“Well it's just that,” Logan paused, to think of a good phrasing for this. “You already seem so wildly different from myself.”

Roman frowned. “Is that a bad thing?” He sounded defensive and Logan winced.

“No, not at all. I just had this theory…” he sighed. “Never mind that.” He offered his hand. “My name is Logan.”

Roman accepted the hand, giving it a firm shake. “Roman.”

It was at this point that Patton entered, with a slight skip to his step. He immediately noticed the other two.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, causing Logan to jump and Roman to merely look over at the doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't realize I would have company!”

Roman and Logan looked at each other, before Patton came over and sat beside the pair. “My name is Patton, pleased to meet you! What are your names?”

Roman cleared his throat, matching the father’s bright smile with one of his own. “Hello, my name is Roman! This is Logan.”

“I can speak for myself.” Logan muttered, to nobody’s attention. Patton beamed and nodded.

“My, my, I wonder what this could be about!” He pondered aloud. Logan’s eyes widened.

“You mean you aren't sure?” He clarified, leaning forward to look past Roman at the man. Roman made a sound of confusion.

“You neither?” He asked, looking between the two. Logan shook his head.

“I only got an email telling me I must come to this location at this time.” He said.

“Hey, me too!” Patton said, then gasped. “Oh, do you think maybe we should wait outside for the interviewer?” He stood again.

“I don’t think so,” Roman said, shaking his head. “Why would the door have been open if the guy didn't want us to come in?”

Patton looked in awe. “Oh, I guess that's true.” He glanced to his side, where there was one more chair set up. “Say, are we expecting one more person?”

Logan leaned a little more forward to see the fourth chair. “Maybe so. This all seems awfully planned out.” He leaned back and turned to glance over his shoulder at the door.

He immediately met eyes with a teen, whose gaze moved to the sign on the door, Room 6.18, before it fell to the floor and he walked inside with an air of uncertainty, taking his seat beside Patton.

The father right away noticed him enter, and smiled brightly. “Well hello there, kiddo! My name is Patton, pleasure to meet you!”

“They let a kid be part of whatever this is?” Roman asked, looking from Virgil to Logan. “What could this possibly be?”

“I have to be honest, I don't know.” He admitted, as he watched Patton try to speak to Virgil, seeming to pick up on the fact Virgil didn't want to be spoken to. “I see no commonalities between us other than perhaps our sex. We are not the same ages, body types, professions, or anything of the sort.”

“That's no help.” Roman purses his lips. Logan scoffed.

“How about we just be patient until the man who summoned us here shows himself?” Logan suggested. “Your guess is as good as mine as to why we are here.”

“May I ask you a question?” Roman sad, going on before Logan could answer. “How come you followed that email? Didn't it seem suspicious when you first got it?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond but closed it again,conflicted. He hadn't marked it off as spam, but neither did the rest of these people…

All conversation was halted by a clearing of a throat behind them, and all four heads turned to look at the man in the doorway. He smiled broadly and walked inside, headed for the desk.

“Hi everyone, glad to know you all made it here in one piece!” he greeted, smiling. “My name is Dr. Emile Picani, and…” his voice dropped low, his face serious, as he sat in his chair. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I brought you here today.”

Tension filled the air quicker than a speeding bullet. Virgil wanted to run out of here, he’d seen movies enough to know this was suspicious from the start. Patton looked confused, nodding a little to Emile’s statement. Roman immediately glanced over to Logan, then over to Patton and to Virgil, then back at Emile, conflict filling him. Logan’s entire body went stiff, he had to hold back a gasp when Emile’s demeanour changed and his mind raced with theories fuelled by confusion and skepticism.

Emile laughed.

“Sorry, I’ve just always wanted to say that.”

The tension deflated from the room like a popped balloon. Virgil growled a bit and pulled the hood of his hoodie up, trying to battle his now extra heightened nerves. Patton made a small “oh” sound and followed up with a laugh and a smile as bright as the Doctor’s. Roman sputtered and looked again at each occupant in the room, before looking back at Emile in disbelief. Logan’s brain almost shut down and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding, all theories rushing out of his mind.

“Aha, no, but seriously,” Emile cleared his throat again. “Thank you all for coming. I am so relieved that you all could trust my word to come here and meet with me.”

“Why have you summoned us all here?” Logan blurted, wanting to get to the point and quell his wild mind from running away with its’ conspiracy theories. “We all appear to have nothing in common with each other, or with you.” He stated bluntly.

“Yeah, what Bifocals said,” Roman followed up, leaning forward in his seat. Logan gave a look.

“Bifocals?” He murmured, having not been called such a nickname in a very long time. He subconsciously adjusted his glasses.

Emile’s smile softened.

“I am a somnologist, I study sleep cycles and dreams.” He stated, sensing the impatience in his patients. “And I have reason to believe the four of you are dreaming of one particular person.”

“What?” Virgil said suddenly, for a moment confusing everyone but Emile, for this was the first time he’d spoken yet. “How the hell do you know about that?”

Patton bristled. “Language, kiddo.” He said instinctively, and although a second after saying it realizing Virgil wasn't his child, he stood by his statement, even when Virgil sputtered beside him. Emile laughed good-heartedly.

“No need to get excited, I have my ways.” He said, before he reached to the piece of Bristol board leaned against the wall. “I must ask that you all remain seated and calm when I present this to you.”

“What?!” Virgil blurted out again. “What's on the poster board?!”

“Is this disturbing subject matter??” Patton asked, taking a glance to the teenager beside him.

“That just makes me want to not stay calm!” Roman said, eyes wide as he stared at Emile.

“Just cut to the point already!” Logan rose his voice uncharacteristically.

“Gentlemen, all of you, please settle!” Emile requested, standing from his seat and resting the Bristol board on his desk, blank side up. “Please be calm and then I can show you why I've brought you here.”

A feeling of dread rose individually in each of the four men before Dr. Picani, and he waited another few seconds after their silence and all eyes were on him before he lifted the board and turned the printed side towards them.

On the board appeared to be a photocopy of a realistic sketch, featuring a soft-looking man with slightly ruffled brown hair, a slender face, tired but joyful eyes, and a pleasant smile. At the sight of the sketch, Logan, Roman, Patton, and Virgil all froze totally.

Their reactions confirmed to Emile one solid fact.

“You are all familiar with the face of Thomas Sanders.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not entirely sure what direction i wanna take this story in, so if any of u have some sort of idea of where i should take it, lemme know in the comments!
> 
> right now i'm torn between "thomas is in a coma and is astral-projecting to these four strangers for help getting out of it, emile is thomas' doctor on the case" and "dr picani works with an agency that implants dreams, this is a social experiment, but these strangers all dream of the same man, whats that all about?"


End file.
